by Laura Howard
“Oh, don't I feel stupid. But, you never corrected me when...”
“Yeah, sorry about that. I guess I've...had other things on my mind.”
“Well, that changes things.”
“How do you figure?” I glanced over at him as he drove. “You've already had your way with me once, and we've agreed that it wasn't a good idea. At least not for now.”
He shook his head and smiled at me. Not just any smile, but a full-blown grin. “That's not what I meant.”
“You are so hypocritical, I'm stunned,” I said. “Are you seriously this happy that I'm not dating Ben?”
His smile didn't falter for even a second. “I can only say this—you were my girlfriend. Christ—that word doesn't even begin to describe what you were for me. But trust me, I'm never going to be excited about you dating other guys. And honestly, I was glad you weren’t thrilled about me being with Danielle.”
“Unbelievable,” I said under my breath, but as we pulled into the parking lot of the apartment, a tiny smile was sneaking onto my lips, too.
“The prodigal hath returned,” Noah said as he turned the key and pushed the door open.
I followed him into the apartment, inexplicably surprised that everything still looked the same. I ran my fingertips over the pictures still hanging on the fridge. Some of all three of us, some of me and Jack, and a couple of Noah's family. A little sob ripped through me. How clueless we looked, how effortlessly happy.
I swallowed hard and turned when I heard Noah walking down the hall toward the bedrooms. I followed him and watched from the doorway as he grabbed his wallet off the bureau by the closet door. There were still framed photos of us on the bureau next to the bed and a few random knickknacks I’d left behind. I wondered if Danielle had ever been in here. Had she seen these photos?
“It's very tidy,” I said walking over and picking up a picture of us from high school graduation.
“Yeah, well. You always were the messy one,” he said. I could feel him watching me, though I didn’t look back to check.
“Whatever,” I said and turned toward the bed. The coverlet was pulled up and the pillows were arranged neatly at the top. “I have missed this bed so much.”
“Well, we can always work out visitation rights,” Noah said while I settled back onto the mattress.
“You'd like that, wouldn't you?” I said, smooshing my face into the mattress to feel the softness. The sweet and husky scent of Noah shot straight to my brain, triggering infinite memories. “Oh baby, I missed you so much,” I said against the mattress.
“I missed you too, Kate.” I knew he was smiling.
“I am not talking to you. I was talking to my bed. And I never called you baby.”
“I can think of a couple of occasions.”
“I think you’re mistaking me with somebody else.” I patted the pillows, and looked up at him in feigned shock. “This is my pillow!”
“That is definitely not your pillow. I bought those.”
“I think it even still smells like me,” I said, putting the pillow under my head.
“You took your pillow to London, remember? Jack made fun of you for being a huge baby and carrying your pillow onto the plane.”
“Whatever,” I said, closing my eyes and snuggling into the pillow.
“Get off my bed, Kate. I'm warning you,” Noah said, sitting on the other side.
“Are you threatening violence on a girl?” I asked, opening one lid to peer up at him. The desire in his gaze was unmistakable.
“Who said I was talking about violence?” he said.
“Have you been doing unspeakable acts on my bed with random girls?” I asked as I sat up.
“I've only done unspeakable acts alone in this bed. Does that make you feel better?”
“Seriously? You haven't brought anyone home?” I asked, lifting an eyebrow. “Lost your mojo?"
“Who told you sex only happens on a bed?”
He was inching toward me.
“Adventurous, aren't we?”
I wasn't done speaking when he was on top of me, pinning me down. It made me swallow hard, but I wasn’t about to give him control. Not now.
“Am I supposed to be afraid or excited?” I said, holding his gaze as I pushed my body up until it was pressed flush against his.
I took his surprise to my advantage and curled my left leg around him and managed to turn us, so I was straddling him.
I gave him a satisfied look, which prompted his face to soften. He gave me a crooked smile.
“What makes you think I can’t use this move of yours to my own advantage?”
His words caught me off guard and he took the opportunity to regain dominance, flopping us back over, but now he made sure his hands had a good hold of mine and he let his weight rest on me instead of hovering.
I was no longer cool and collected. I arched my back and thrashed my body. But while I made him work for it, I wasn’t strong enough to take control of the situation.
Exhausted, I finally gave up and looked into his eyes, fighting the rising need in my body. I shimmied my knee up until it rested on his chest and pushed until I could force him gently off me.
“I don't think friends wrestle on a bed,” I said.
Those words seemed to have more of an effect on him. He jumped up and avoided my gaze.
“Yeah, definitely not,” he said, turning around to grab my hand and pulling me up to my feet. “Okay, let's go see about dinner.”
I became very self-conscious and uncomfortable as Noah led me into the kitchen, still holding my hand. As we walked, I noticed something new hanging on the wall.
“Hey, what's this?” I asked, looking at a beautiful framed drawing of a house.
“Ah…I designed that.”
“Hmm, is this for you? I figured you'd end up living in a condo or a high-rise.” With my free hand, I traced the outline.
“That's what you would do,” he said, dropping my hand. “I, however, want a beautiful house in suburbia where my family can live. I want the kids, the dog—the whole thing.”
“This is news to me,” I said, turning to face him. After getting accepted to Burroughs, Noah and Jack had talked constantly about the sprawling sky scrapers and stadiums they planned to design. We had always talked about moving away from Moore Crossing after we graduated.
“It shouldn’t be,” he said stiffly. “I've told you that. Nice to know you were paying attention.”
“I paid attention.”
“I think you only pretended to listen just to get your way with me,” he said, grinning now.
“Yeah, that’s exactly what happened.”
“Anyway, want to know something I've decided?” he asked. There was a sparkle in his eye as he said it—the same look he always had before he shared something that excited him.
“Of course.”
“I want to design houses. Beautiful homes where families can thrive. Places that will outlive me.”
“That is…beautiful.” I said, touched by his idealism.
“You tell me something you've figured out since we were together. Something new about you.”
“Hmm. Okay. It might not be as deep and meaningful, but I found out I like cooking. I got tired of the food in London real fast. And I actually enjoy doing it,” I said.
“That explains my almost-breakfast. So, when are you going to cook for me again? I always liked your sandwiches the best.”
“Never. What am I, your maid? When are you going to build me a house?”
“I'm not going to build houses. I'm going to design them,” he said.
“Whatever. When are you going to design me a house?”
“It's not like I've never thought about you living in a house I designed,” he said, almost to himself. I desperately tried to ignore the implications. I wasn't strong enough for that train of thought tonight.
“Okay, then. I'll cook for you sometime. Speaking of food, I was promised dinner?”
“Right, let
's go.”
We decided to take a ride out of town, thinking it was probably best to avoid running into anyone else we knew. We drove for about an hour until we got to the shore. There was a seafood restaurant there called The Atlantic Grille Noah's family used to stop at on the way home from the beach.
It was too early in the year for the big crowds that came during the summer, so we were seated quickly. A short, balding man came to greet us within a minute.
“Hello, I'm Charles. I'll be your server this evening.”
He took our drink orders and we were left alone to browse the menus. I always got the same thing at the Atlantic, crab cakes and roasted halibut.
“This sounds good,” Noah said, looking at the specials menu. “Native Sea Scallops with a Cilantro and Sunflower Seed Pesto.”
“But you hate cilantro,” I said. Then I grimaced. “Oh, sorry. Force of habit, maybe your tastes have changed.”
“No, you're right. I do hate cilantro. I better go with something else.”
Charles came back with our drinks and took our dinner orders.
“One more month till graduation. Any idea what you're going to do?” Noah asked.
I took a deep breath and looked down at my hands. “Dean Burdorf granted me a pardon for not finishing the semester, but I'm going to have to make up the credits in the fall to graduate.”
After taking a sip of my soda, I looked up at him. “What about you? What's next for you?”
“Well, after graduation, I have a position lined up at Marcello & Sons.”
“Are you serious? That's amazing!” I said, genuinely impressed. Marcello was the premier general contractor in southern New Hampshire. You couldn't go anywhere without seeing a new development with one of their signs posted out front.
“I've been interning there, and they seem to like me,” Noah said with a shrug.
“They do residential?” I asked, remembering his dream of building homes.
He looked at me for a second, and then his face broke out into a huge grin. “Yeah. Yeah, they do.”
“I'm so happy for you.” A little sliver of relief wedged its way into my heart. Two years ago his family had moved to Colorado so Noah’s father could take a prestigious position at a hospital in Denver. They still visited a few times a year, but I knew Noah missed his family. If he was going to work for Marcello, he'd be staying here.
His smile faded. “Jack was the one who really had it made. He was going to be heading out to Abu Dhabi after graduation. I guess you probably knew that.”
I did know. The last time I'd spoken with my brother, he'd gushed about all the traveling he would get to do for his new job. The company that had hired him was a high-end urban developer with firms all over the world. They needed young, unattached architects to take bids that would bring them overseas for months or years at a time. Jack would have been golden. I squeezed my eyes shut to hold back the rush of emotion that threatened to overwhelm me.
“I'm sorry, Kate,” Noah said in a whisper.
I opened my eyes and pasted my smile back in place. “You don't need to apologize.”
“So, tell me more about London. I never got a sense of whether you liked it or not from what Jack told me.”
“It was fantastic. It was hard to get used to the way they talk over there.” I laughed at the memory of every other person making fun of my “nasally accent.”
“Did you become a tea drinker?”
“No, definitely not. Ben is a coffee drinker. That's probably why we're friends,” I said with a laugh. Our conversation was becoming more natural. Comfortable even. We still needed to sort things out, but it was nice to just unwind and spend time together.
On the walk out to the car, Noah talked a little more about his plans for after graduation. I couldn't help but think about Jack as he told me more about the architecture firm where he would been working.
My brother had been dead for one week today. One week ago the call had come in from my father.
Jack's gone. They were the first words he’d uttered into the receiver.
It happened so fast I didn’t have a chance to react. I was lost in thought—remembering that awful day and how it had felt to hear those words—and my left heel caught a crack in the parking lot. Before I could even make a sound, I was down.
Noah was on his knees in an instant, trying to assess the damage. Pain shot from the top of my foot up my leg.
“Is it broken?” he asked.
I took a shaky breath and shook my head. “No,” I said, wincing. “I think it's just a sprain.”
“Come on,” he said as he hefted me up into his arms. “We’d better get you home.”
I almost protested, but the pain in my ankle was bad enough that I thought better of it. I buried my face in his shoulder, pretending for just a moment that things were like they were supposed to be.
We didn’t speak on the ride home.
“I don't think this is the way to my parents’ house,” I said when I noticed we were going the wrong direction.
“I'm taking you to the apartment,” he said.
“That’s probably not a very good idea,” I said. The memory of his body pressed against mine just a few hours ago was still very fresh in my mind.
“It’s okay, Kate. Your parents aren’t home yet. Relax and let me take care of you for a change,” he said. “If coming back to the apartment makes you uncomfortable, I’m still staying with you at your parents’ house. You need to keep off that ankle.”
“Fine, but I’m sleeping on the couch.”
“Please. You can sleep in the bed. I’ll take the couch. I don’t have an ulterior motive, I swear. Tonight I’m just your friend, not the asshole you sleep with sometimes.”
I laughed. “That sounds like wishful thinking to me.”
“Fine. The asshole you used to sleep with. Better?”
“Much better,” I said with a sigh. Maybe there really was hope.
Chapter 5
In the morning I looked over at Noah sleeping soundly on his side of the bed. He’d kept things completely platonic between us all night, just as he’d promised. We watched old reruns of Firefly and fell asleep on opposite ends of the oversized couch¸ only our feet touching, before waking in the middle of the night and heading to bed.
I slowly slipped out from under the blankets, trying not to wake him. After I replaced the coverlet, I tiptoed into the kitchen to see what he had on hand for me to make for breakfast. I looked around and discovered a box of Lucky Charms was my best option, so I decided to make a quick run to the store. Rather than wake him, I wrote him a quick note.
My ankle was still sore, so I decided to take his car rather than walk the two blocks to the nearest grocery store. His keys were in the little bowl I’d made in high school pottery class, along with some old phone messages for Jack. The sight of them bit into my heart, but I pushed thoughts of my brother down and scooped out the keys.
The apartment was still quiet when I returned armed with the ingredients to make a batch of crepes. They were Ben’s favorite breakfast, so I’d gotten good at making them after spending the night at his flat.
I started a pot of coffee and got to work cutting up strawberries and whisking batter as the pan heated up. The sound of the toilet flushing signaled Noah was up and about. The floor creaked behind me and he leaned down to kiss the top of my head.
“Good morning,” I said, pouring batter into the pan and adjusting the heat.
“Smells good.” He walked over and poured us both a coffee. “I brought you here so you’d stay off your feet, not so you’d go grocery shopping and make me breakfast.”
“Well, I was hungry, and your cabinets are in a sorry state. I couldn’t live with myself if I ate your last bowl of Lucky Charms. Not that you had any milk.”
Noah stole the spatula from my hand and swatted my backside before handing it back to me. “Those are funny looking pancakes.”
“That’s because they’re not pancakes, they’re
crepes.”
He walked over to the bowl by the sink and pulled out a strawberry and popped it into his mouth. “I could get used to this.”
“You said if I cooked for you, you’d build me a house.” I flipped the first crepe onto a plate I’d taken down from the cabinet. “I haven’t forgotten that.”
“I said I don’t build houses, woman. I design them.” As I started to make more crepes, Noah took out more plates and forks and set the table for us.
“You are so not fun.”
“You'll get your house,” he whispered into my ear as he walked past me. “When you live in it with me.”
“I’m not so sure I want to go down there with you again,” I said closing my eyes.
“Who said it would be like before?” Noah said. “I envision a bright future for us, you just gotta stick with me.”
“Does this future include me barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen?” I asked.
“Maybe, but oh what a kitchen it will be. Granite counter tops, hardwood floors, stainless steel appliances...”
“Sub zero fridge?” I said, interrupting his vision.
“And double convection ovens mounted on the wall,” he said in a mock sultry voice.
“You really know how to talk dirty, don't you?” I smiled over my shoulder at him.
“I do my best. Let’s see what you made, and if it’s as delicious as you look, I might throw in a restaurant-grade stove top.”
“Are you trying to get in my pants?” I asked, turning off the burner.
“Were you doubting that at any point?” he said.
“Funny.”
“Pathetic, actually. Let's eat.”
We continued our usual banter while we ate. When the kitchen was clean and all the food had been put away, I knew it was time to return to my parents’ house. They’d be home any time now and I wasn’t looking forward to returning to the black cloud that followed my family around. Being here, I could imagine Jack was behind his closed bedroom door or not yet home from a night out.
On the ride home, Noah held my hand as he drove. My brain was working over time as I stared down at our interlaced fingers.
